


American Dreams

by Black_Velvet_360



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Death, Domestic Violence, Drama & Romance, Gambler Molly, Gun Violence, Horror, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lesbian Sex, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, NSFW, Past Relationship(s), Pregnancy Scares, Psychological Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Velvet_360/pseuds/Black_Velvet_360
Summary: Recently on the run from the Blackwater Massacre, the twenty-year run of the Van der Linde gang seems to be coming to an end. Arthur Morgan, the lead enforcer and top gun, struggles to come to terms with this new world the American Government and Pinkerton Detective Agency are trying to enforce. Complete with a new member of their gang, an informant of Dutch's named Molly O'Shea, the gang finally head down the mountains to hide out on Horseshoe Overlook in the Heartlands. There Arthur gets a lead on a bunch of rich idiots living in Murfree hills, seems to be an easy score for him.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Charlotte Balfour/Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella/Molly O'Shea, Karen Jones/Molly O'Shea, Karen Jones/Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy/Original Female Character(s), Leonard "Lenny" Summers/Original Female Character(s), Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan, Mary-Beth Gaskill/Charles Smith, Molly O'Shea/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	American Dreams

Outlaws from the West 

* * *

The cold of Colter was something new to get used to after the months spent near Blackwater in New Austin. Arthur woke up with a chill rubbing his arms and warming his hands with his breath. They had been running for weeks, more than usual, and while Hosea and Dutch went over the plans, Arthur looked over his journal to try and make sense of everything.

Most of it was old information about how they picked up Micah and poor Jenny. All their money is back in Blackwater with most of their stuff after that disastrous boat job. He still doesn’t quite know what happened, and Dutch keeps avoiding his questions. He hears Dutch leave the cabin, Hosea warms himself by the fire, a new arrival of theirs starts talking, Molly O’Shea. He flips to the page where he mentions her, looking at an old drawing of her. Molly’s covered in blood and bruises, clutching a shawl around herself. He reads over his ridiculous drivel.

_Dutch heard that a girl he knows, Molly O’Shea, is in town, I ain’t ever met her, but she has good information for him most of the time. He told me she was a gambler of sorts, and he usually comes back with some money every time he goes to see her._

_This time, however, he came back with the girl. All covered in blood and bruises, shaking like a leaf and jumping at shadows, but a pretty young thing despite it. Dutch said he rescued her from some of Colm’s boys, he seems happy with her, but I can’t help but feel like this may be Annabelle all over again._

He earnestly hoped she didn’t end up being a second Annabelle. A shadow passes over his journal. “How are ya, Arthur?” Speak of the devil. He looked up at Molly, her red hair hidden under her hood save for a few rebellious curls. The bruising on her face had finally gone down aside from a brown spot on the ridge of her eye, she was a real pretty thing, Arthur could see why Dutch was so fond of her. “I brought you a coffee. Can I come sit down?” Arthur nods, waving her in.

“Certainly, Miss O’Shea.” Molly shakes her head at him, offering him his cup. He takes it, still piping hot through the metal cup.

“Ah, call me Molly, would ya?” She sits on the old nightstand at the end of his bed. “John’s doing well.” Arthur grunts, damn idiot got near eaten by wolves while scouting, Dutch should never have sent him on that job. “And the O’Driscoll you picked up is freezing his jewels off in the barn.” He snorts at that. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“I thought you would’ve been fine with that? Seeing as how Dutch saved you from a kidnapping all those months ago.” Molly rolls her eyes, lighting a cigarette.

“He did not save me, Arthur. I had it completely under control.” She takes a long drag watching as he blows on the cup of coffee.

“Oh really, the way I heard it, you was tied to a tree and beaten within an inch of your life.” Molly lets the smoke waft out of her mouth, her eyes distant as they gaze out the window. “Is that what you call under control, or do you have another name for it?” Molly snickers.

“I do.” Another drag from the cigarette leaves Arthur waiting, and she turns towards him with a lopsided grin. “I call it Sunday.” A smoke ring dissolves around his face, and he swats it away with a laugh.

“You are crazy. I can tell you that.” He stands to make his way to the fire, Molly following, watching him sit in one of the old worn chairs in front of the fire.

“Crazy was what Karen did last night.” She laughs, heading over to the window to sit upon the old makeshift table, a plank of wood spanning two old barrels. “Did you hear about that? She nearly set the building cross the way on fire while you were off gallivanting with the boys god only knows where.”

“Yeah, I heard a little from Charles and a lot more from Dutch.” He watches Molly pull her legs up onto the table so she can look out the window. “A lot more.” He emphasizes, causing Molly to blush.

“Oh shut it, ya old creep.” Her words sound harsh, but the giggle on her voice says she doesn’t mean it.

“You make him real happy, Molly. I’m just glad, is all.” Molly smiles at him.

“I’m... glad as well. I don’t meet a lot of men that take my fancy quite as he has.” Her eyes once again seem somewhere else, and Arthur is transfixed, trying to figure out where she’s gone. “I think...” She starts before shaking her head. “No, nevermind... It’s nothing anyway.” Glancing back out the window, she waves Arthur off. “Anyways, you best be off. Looks like Dutch is still fixing to rob that train.”

“Still not a fan, Molly?” Molly shakes her head with a slight scowl. “Trust Dutch. He hasn’t steered us wrong before. Oh, and try not to let Karen drag you into any more trouble while we’re gone.” Molly snorts and shrugs.

“I am trouble Arthur, Karen or no Karen.” He walks out to the sound of her laughter and into the thawing winter of the old mining town.

* * *

_Leviticus Cornwall?_

_Seems Colm O’Driscoll had the same idea as us. He’s been hiding up here, scouting out a train he wanted to rob. We bumped into some of his boys at some farmstead they was robbing, found that poor woman whose husband they had murdered and she’s now riding with us as she ain’t got no place better to be. Then, Dutch being Dutch and his hatred for Colm being just as powerful as ever it was, whole bunch of us went to pay him a visit in his camp, but he escaped._

_We grabbed one of his boys. Poor bastard ain’t spoken yet, but he will once we freeze him a little, then set Bill on him. Been a bad few weeks, but we’re mostly still alive._

_Dutch being Dutch, is busy making plans and figuring out just how we’re gonna survive. And Dutch being Dutch, those plans usually involve robbery and dreams._

* * *

The long winter had finally come to an end, and with a train robbery behind them, the Van der Linde Gang has finally seen fit to travel down the mountains by caravan. Arthur can still hear Grimshaw whipping the camp into action well on down the road. It was several miles before they saw grass again, and did Arthur sure ever miss it, with the long winter they’ve had.

Following the rest of the wagons, Arthur could see Molly mending her shawl on the wagon ahead of them, the layabout Uncle sleeping by her feet, a bottle in hand of course. Hosea had started reading beside him, a crime novel, he seemed to like them. Maybe while Arthur was out sometime, he could pick him up a new one. The wagon started rumbling as they moved into the stream, and Hosea put down his novel to start barking orders.

“You gotta keep us moving but calm.” Finally, on dry land, a moment of relief is broken by the sound of something breaking and a massive lurch of the wagon. The wagon ahead stops, and Molly stands from it. Arthur swore, tossing the reins down, but Hosea remained calm as ever. “Alright, let’s go take a look,” Bill calls back from the driver's seat next to Charles.

“You alright back there?” Arthur climbs off momentarily, catching sight of Molly and Charles coming over.

“Everything look alright?” Arthur can vaguely hear Molly waking up Uncle so he can watch Jack. Finally, off the wagon, Arthur can see the problem immediately. The wagon wheel is off and on the ground. “AH! I broke the goddamn wheel!”

“Alright, let’s get it fixed.” Hosea pats the man’s shoulder. He bends to look at the spoke. Molly’s timid voice hits his ears.

“Can we do anything to help Hosea?” Hosea turns to look at her and Charles. 

“Oh, sure. Charles and Arthur can hold the wagon up while you and I get the wheel back on.” Hosea heads over to pull a crowbar out of the back of the wagon as Charles and Arthur start lifting the wagon. “Get the wheel from over there and bring it here.” Molly heads over, picking up the wheel, “You have any experience fixing wagons?” rolling it to Hosea, Molly shakes her head.

“No, I had a... extensive education, but the practical stuff like wagon repair was sadly omitted.” she tries to lift it with a grunt, and Hosea steps in, holding the other side of the wheel to help her.

“Just lift it on three. Come on.” Hosea counts, and the two lift it onto the axle. Hosea then leans into the wheel to push it further on to the axle. “Okay, that’s on there as far as I can get it.” Picking up the crowbar, he holds it out for Molly. “Can you tighten the nut there while me and the boys get the stuff back in the wagon?” Molly smiles and nods as Hosea joins Arthur and Charles in reloading the wagon. A couple of chests, a milk jug, a wicker basket, Molly grunts through tightening the wheel, and turns to see the men all staring. Looking up, she catches sight of three men on horseback watching them from the cliffs.

“What do you think?” Arthur’s gritty voice whispers.

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen them.” Charles answers smooth and sort of ominous in a way Molly couldn’t quite put to words. Hosea raises a hand to wave at them, and Molly pulls off her hood to let her hair catch the spring breeze.

“Poor bastards... We really screwed them over down here.” Turning, Hosea ushers them all back to the wagon. “Come on... let’s not push our luck.” Charles stretches his shoulder and climbs into the back, offering a hand to Molly as Arthur and Hosea return to the front of the wagon.

“What happened?” Molly can hear Arthur’s gruff voice as she settles herself on the rolls of canvas tents, near intimately close to Charles, who sat on the chest that was strapped to the side overhang of the wagon.

“Come on, let's just get back on the road first, and I’ll tell ya.” Arthur hops up into the driver's seat and picks up the reins he threw earlier. The wagon lurches as the horses start moving. “Not too far now. Stay on this trail. We’ll follow the river then cut left inland.” Once steady, Molly looks for something to busy her hands, pulling out an old carving tool and her knife, the cold made it hard to work with her hands like this. She slowly starts carving into the bone handle, following the knotwork pattern she drew earlier, listening to Hosea all the while.

“So... yes, the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal. This is the Heartlands we’re going to, good farming and grazing country, they lost it all.” Molly looked around at the trees, cliffs and plateaus, taking in the information. She blows dust off her knife catching sight of Charles looking at her. “Stolen, clean away from them it was, every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere.” Charles looks over at Hosea, tilting his head.

“And how is that different from anywhere else?” Molly snorted, shrugging at the stoic man’s question. Hosea grunts thoughtfully. 

“Well, maybe it’s not. I just heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh... unpleasant about it.” Hosea seemed uncomfortable, and Molly looked over her work before taking out a wet stone and sharpening the short blade. Charles is once again staring at her, at least out of the corner of his eye.

“Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?” Molly looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk. “We don’t, in spite of Dutch’s talk.” Molly snickers.

“I can, but I don’t think you’d like a practical demonstration.” Charles looks at her, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Most seemed rather content with their end if their smiles were anything to go by.” Continuing to sharpen the blade, she smiles at Charles, running her one foot up and down his leg. “Dying in the hands of a lovely seductress, tell me that’s not a good death.”

“Uh... It’s not he’s still dead...” Charles moves his leg away from her, trying to avoid her gaze. “I’m a little scared to ask, but what happened with the ones that weren’t content?” Molly shrugs.

“They’re alive...” Looking away, Molly mutters. “And they’re women...” Hosea laughs, wheezing and coughing a bit at the end. Arthur pats his back. Charles gives Molly a second look as she wipes her knife on her coat.

“Wait, what?” Molly looks at him continuing to sharpen her blade. She hums at him shrugging. “What do you mean by them being women?”

“You know what this knife is typically used for?” She dangles the blade between her fingers. “It's a Sgian dubh. It’s used by many in the United Kingdom, it can be ceremonial, it can be a hunting knife, but farmers tend to use it to castrate lambs and calves.” Charles shifts away from her. “And after a long day of cutting off testicles, we gather up all of them and fry them in a big pot. They’re kinda spicy.”

“You eat them?” Charles stares at her, glancing at Arthur and Hosea.

“Well, yes. I mean typically, you slice open the skin with the knife and then go in with your mouth and-”

“Arthur! I want to drive.” Arthur snorts, laughing out loud with Hosea and Molly.

“What’s a matter, Charles? You’re not scared of a hundred-pound Irish girl, right?” Arthur looks back, catching Molly finishing the polish of her knife. It’s a fancy little knife he can give her that.

“She’s talking about castration, sharpening a knife, and giving me this...” Molly raises her eyebrow and smirks. Charles stares back, leaning away from her. “Confusing look...” Molly shakes her head with a laugh. Hosea turns around to touch her shoulder.

“Molly, perhaps, not tease Charles so much.” Molly nods, laying back on the canvas rolls. “So Charles, what happened to your tribe?” Charles looks taken aback.

“You wanna talk about that now?” Molly covers her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. Hosea shrugs at Charles.

“Would you rather linger on the thought that you’re sitting next to a woman who eats testicles?” Molly bursts out laughing, unable to stop herself. Charles groans, staring at her wrapping her hands around her stomach.

“No, I guess I don’t...” Molly quiets her giggles and shakes her head, sitting up to listen to Charles more respectfully. “I don’t even know if I have one... least not that I can remember. My father was a colored man. They told me he lived with our people for a while, a number of free men did, but... when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much.” Charles gives a glance at Molly, who seems almost guilty as she avoids looking at him. “All life I’ve been on the run. A couple years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around...” Sighing, Charles looks over the river seeing deer bound across it. “He was a very sad man and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen... I just took off on my own.”

“That was around the age we found young Arthur here, maybe a little older. A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast.” It was beginning to get too warm for winter coats, and Charles quickly shed his letting it drop to the wagon floor.

“Not as fast as Marston, apparently,” Arthur comments, almost bitter, and Charles asks before Molly has the chance. 

“Wait... I don’t understand. What’s the problem between you two?” Hosea looks at Arthur, nudging him to talk. Arthur shrugs it off, saying it's a long story. Molly has the time to unbutton her coat and look at the scenery. The river looks cool and full of fish, forests look full of game. She lets out a heavy sigh, heartsick and tired.

“What’s wrong, Molly?” Molly sighs, rolling over to look at Hosea.

“I kinda miss Ireland. America is not cold, wet, and cloudy enough for me. But there are enough Irish assholes around here looking to stab me that I can’t miss it too much.” Hosea looks back at her.

“Have you had more run-ins with the O’Driscolls than we know about?” Molly shrugs at him. Arthur draws him away before he can ask her any follow up questions, something about whether or not they’re heading in the right direction. “That depends... are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests as we planned? No.” Hosea seemed almost sour as he continued. “Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastwards down the mountains?” He sighs, and Molly can feel him rolling his eyes. “Yes, I believe so.” 

“You know this area?” Molly hears Charles ask behind her. Hosea looks back to address him.

“A little, I’ve been through a couple of times.” He waves his hand at land up the cliff, turning back around to face the trail. “There’s a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place.”

“Any blondes?” Hosea blinks, turning to look at her. “Working girls, I mean?”

“Why are you interested in blonde working girls?” Molly turns to Charles, smiling at him.

“Why would you be interested in working girls?” It was amusing to see Charles’ face scrunch in confusion before his eyes widen and he stutters before turning away. Hosea lets out another wheezing laugh.

“Oh, I imagine we can find you a nice blonde, Molly.” Molly smiles, but Arthur focuses back on business.

“O’Driscolls?” Hosea pulls out a grinding stone and bowl, dropping some ginseng and yarrow into the bowl.

“Probably them too.” Looking over, Arthur catches Molly inquisitively looking over Hosea’s shoulder.

“Pinkertons?” Hosea scowls at that one.

“Let’s hope not.” Arthur settles into the seat, rolling his shoulders and neck.

“This place we’re going... wait, what’s it called again? Horseshoe Overlook?” Hosea nods. “It’s a good place to lie low?” Hosea shrugs.

“It’ll do for now. And how low do you think Dutch is really gonna lie?” He looks at Arthur, leaving the bowl and grindstone be for now. “It's just... you know, maybe it’s me who’s changed, not him, but, we kept telling him that ferry job didn’t feel right.” Pointing back at Molly, he continues. “She told him too.”

“It was common sense, really. The ferry job was too good to be true...” Molly trails off when Hosea looks back at her. Patting Arthur’s shoulder, he continues.

“You and me had a real lead in Blackwater that could’ve worked out.” Looking back at Molly. “And you had that treasure map of yours. Do you still have it?” Molly pulls it out of her coat and hands it to Hosea. “It’s just... it isn’t like Dutch to lose his head like that. You noticed it too, Molly?”

“More or less.” Shaking her head, Molly takes a moment to collect her thoughts. “I don’t know. He seemed a little more... cautious back when I met him.” Arthur cuts into her thoughts.

“Things go wrong sometimes. People die.” Molly relaxes into the canvas, and Hosea takes to his little project again. “It’s the way it is, always has been. Me, you, Dutch... we’ve all been at this line of work a long time, and we’re still here, so... I figure we must’ve got it right a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong.” After a bit of silence, Molly can’t stop herself.

“What are you working on, Hosea?” Hosea doesn’t bother to look at her just continues working.

“Just some yarrow and ginseng, good for the health. Better than that stuff you can buy in the store.” Holding the bowl to her, Molly backs away. “Here, you can have all this. I’m at the point where I can do it with my eyes closed.” Molly holds her hands up.

“Uh... That’s nice, but... no thank you.” Hosea shrugs and puts what he has in a bottle. As they crest the hill and draw closer to a nearby forest, they spot Javier waving them over.

“There you are, brother.” He smiles at them, pointing at a worn path into the wood. “Head in there and follow the track for a bit.” Arthur thanks him as he leads the horses up the trail. “Hey, slow up! I’ll jump on.” The wagon slows, and Molly watches Javier jump on the back, hanging off a handle as he stands on the back step. “Oh, hey there, Molly. You look lovely today.” She giggles, sitting back up and waving him off.

“Any trouble getting in here, Javier?” Javier waves his free hand.

“No, it went well. This is a good spot.” Molly leans over the wagon edge catching sight of rabbits and squirrels scurrying away from the wagon.

“Excellent. I think this will work for us, Arthur. For now, anyway.” She can hear the smile on his voice. “Here we are, gentlemen. Home sweet home.” Molly looks up. Seeing the clearing on the edge of the cliff, the rest of the gang were well into setting camp like a well-oiled machine. She can see Dutch coming closer, arms wide, as he greets Hosea.

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect.” As he gets closer to the wagon, he notices Molly and smiles at her. “Miss O’Shea, I was wondering where you went. I had almost feared you had run off.” Molly rolls her eyes, heading to the back to get off the wagon, Dutch joining her to take her by the waist and help her down.

“Dutch, when have I ever run off on you?” She lets out a cute little squeak as Dutch lifts her from the wagon. Patting his arms, she goes to leave, but he keeps a firm grip. Looking up at his fond smile, she can’t help but smile as well.

“Remember Wichita? Left me to an empty bed in the morning.” Molly snorts, playfully smacking his shoulder. 

“I told you that night I had a train to catch in the morning. Were you not listening?” Dutch smiles, leaning in to plant a few kisses on her neck.

“I may have been distracted.” Molly tilts her head towards him, trying to shrug him off with a few giggles. He pulls away, kissing her on the lips sweetly, she gives an appreciative hum, and Arthur can’t help but notice Javier staring at them before stomping off. Pulling away, Dutch leads Molly with an arm around her waist to talk to Arthur and Hosea. “Gentlemen, we have survived.” Hosea dismissively says for now. “Now, it is time to prosper.” Patting Molly on the back, he points her off to his tent. “Why don’t you get changed into something more weather appropriate?”

As she heads off for the tent, Molly can hear Hosea go on about the Blackwater ferry heist and his real estate scam he’s been very sore about. Pulling the tent flaps close, Molly digs through her trunk. She’s happy Dutch went back for her stuff in her hotel in Blackwater, even if she lost some of her things in the scramble up the mountain. She puts away her winter coat and pulls out a lighter shirt with blue and yellow stripes and lace. It felt nice and was warm enough for the chill of spring. Slipping it on and buttoning it up, she hears Hosea, Arthur, and Dutch moving. 

“...We are stuck... east of the Grizzlies and out of money... and a long way from our dream of virgin land in the west.” Hosea sounded very exasperated. Molly shakes her head, sighing and pulling her shall around herself. The blood had finally come out. That was a chore and a half.

“I know, my brother, but we are safe...” She begins tuning them out as she reopens the tent and heads out to help. Karen is moving crates around with Pearson. Maybe she could help there. Heading over, she waves at Karen, who stops to look at her still holding a chest. The blonde seemed confused by the shy wave from the redhead.

“What?” Molly seems to deflate at her question. “Well?”

“I was hoping... I could help out here... in some way?” Karen smiles at the nervous response.

“I mean if you’re feeling up for it.” Karen places the chest on the table and opens it up. “This is all of Pearson’s cooking utensils. He likes them organized. Maybe you can start here.” Molly takes a set of knives out, placing them on the table when she hears Dutch.

“Now, everyone, put your tools down for a moment. Come on, gather round, quickly now.” Karen waves Molly over, and she sighs, walking around to join the crowd. “I know that things have been tough... but we are safe now, and we are far too poor. So it is time for everyone to get to work.” Hosea steps forward, addressing everyone.

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble. Remember, we are itinerant workers.” Dutch pats Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Yes. Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north. Now, get out there, and see what you can find.” Molly looks at the ground. She lost her loaded dice and card deck in Blackwater. She’ll have to get more. She could find something in Valentine, maybe? “Uncle, Reverend Swanson... no more passengers. It is time for everyone to earn their keep.” Molly nods, confident in what she could do.

“There is a town a little way down the track... name of Valentine... livestock town. All mud and morons, if I remember right. That seems a decent place to start.” Hosea continues as Dutch enters his tent to dig through his stuff. Pearson brushes past her turning to address the gang.

“And... we need food... real food...” He pauses, pointing at everyone. “That means every day, one of you.”

“And remember, whatever it is you find...” Dutch calls from the tent exiting with a wooden box covered in fine leather. He places it on a barrel outside the tent. “The camp gets its slice.” He opens the box, pointing with an unlit cigar into the box. He shuts it before waving everyone off. “Now, be sensible out there.”

Molly starts back to Pearson’s chuckwagon when Dutch stops her. “Wait, where are you heading off to Molly?” Molly stops turning around to face him.

“I was going to help Karen with unpacking Pearson’s supplies.” Dutch frowns, his mouth dropping open. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, I just... I’d like it if you’d come help with unpacking my tent rather than working with those heavy crates.” Molly looks at his tent, shaking her head.

“But you’re almost done?” Taking her hands in his, Dutch presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“Well, maybe we could talk after, take a walk down to this town of Valentine and buy a bath. I imagine you’ve been missing those.” Molly frowns, letting her eyes drift from his.

“Well, I have a bit, but... I don’t want to be seen as a passenger. Maybe I could see about a bit of gambling to-” Dutch places a finger to her lips.

“We don’t know how far spread Colm’s men are.” Taking the finger away, Dutch holds her shoulders, rubbing circles with his thumbs. “And they likely still want you, I can’t...” He pulls Molly into a hug. “I don’t want to think about that.” Molly closes her eyes, nuzzling into his chest as he holds her.

Arthur watches from his tent, lighting a match off his boot’s rough tread and hoping with everything he has that Molly doesn’t become another Annebelle. Not just for Dutch, but for her too.

* * *

_Finally, a thaw in this god awful weather. We got off the mountain and rode east into some pretty enough country called the Heartlands._

_Ain’t been this far east in many a year. Hosea seems to know the country a little. Ain’t been much of a spring. Now held up in this place called Horseshoe Overlook, outside some dumpy little cattle town, name of Valentine._

_I’ve been working on a few leads. Hosea discovered a fence I can sell wagons to, and Dutch found a pair of twins that buy stolen livestock. I think both are idiots, but Money is money._

_Speaking of, I shot the shackles off this runaway from a chain gang. Told me of a rich pair of city idiots who thought it would be a good idea to buy land in Murfree country. I’m gonna go check it out tomorrow, I’ll probably be raiding any empty house but if they’re smart, they’ll know to hide cash. But if I get there first and things go bad. Well, I’d be a lot quicker than the Murfrees._


End file.
